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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29866581">Quantum Entanglement</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryokee/pseuds/carryokee'>carryokee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Cutting Edge (1992)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Post-Olympics, Sweet, Vignette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:22:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,039</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29866581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryokee/pseuds/carryokee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>That’s her and Doug, she thinks as she watches him refill the glasses. Two particles forever spinning in unison.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Douglas Dorsey/Kate Moseley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Quantum Entanglement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I just watched this movie for the first time in years and I remembered just why I loved it so much back in 1992.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><i> In quantum entanglement, subatomic particles maintain a relationship—for instance, vibrating when the other vibrates—even when separated and even if they are at great distances from each other.</i><br/>
--Sean Hamill--</p>
  <p>+++</p>
</div>Kate slips her hand into Doug’s as they walk towards the bar, giving it a little squeeze. He squeezes back and turns his head to look at her, a sheepish half-smile curving his lips.<p>“He’s your brother,” she says, teasing him. “I should be the one who’s nervous.”</p><p>He huffs a laugh, his breath crystallizing in the winter air. “You’re never nervous.”</p><p>Which isn’t precisely true. She’s just better at hiding it. There was a day a couple of years ago where she distinctly remembers her nerves nearly getting the better of her. It was the day after Doug had stepped foot in her building – their building now, really – for the first time. The first day she realized he wasn’t going to be as easy to scare away as the others had been. She’d been as snarky and sharp-tongued as usual, but her stomach had knotted tighter and tighter every time he gave back as good as he got. He had already started burrowing under her skin that first day. He’s lived there ever since.</p><p>But she really isn’t nervous about meeting his brother. She’s looking forward to meeting the man Doug never stops talking about, who, if she were to go strictly by Doug’s opinion of him, is at least 10 feet tall and bulletproof.</p><p>The music gets louder as they approach the front door, warm light spilling out through the windows. Doug stops, takes a deep breath, smiles at her. Stares back at the door, his hand closing tighter around hers.</p><p>She rolls her eyes and yanks on his hand, leaning up to kiss him when he turns towards her again. She can feel his surprise in the first second, then feels his lips relax against hers, opening slightly as he smiles into the kiss.</p><p>She breaks away with a grin and pulls open the front door, dragging Doug in behind her. It’s warm inside, bright with light and loud with music – something fast and energetic and full of electric guitars that Doug will no doubt want them to skate to at next year’s nationals.</p><p>Next year’s nationals. Wow, that’s the first time that thought has popped into her head since the Olympics. But now that it has, she likes the idea. She’s not ready to give it up just yet. Not when skating is finally fun.</p><p>Doug presses up behind her, his hands on her shoulders, one thumb tracing up the back of her neck beneath her hair. It’s just one of a million tiny touches he’s started giving her since the moment they skated off the ice in Albertville. She’s always acutely aware of every single one.</p><p>The place is packed, every table full of people, a crowd obscuring most of the bar. It’s not typically her kind of place, but she can see Doug everywhere in it. It’s warm and welcoming, brash and boisterous. Just like him.</p><p>She looks up at him, watches his eyes scan the room. “Which one’s Walter?”</p><p>He meets her eyes, smiles. Then he points towards the bar. “The big ugly one behind the bar.”</p><p>Kate smirks. “Uglier than you?”</p><p>He raises an eyebrow, then leans down to whisper in her ear, “I haven’t heard you complain.”</p><p>She blushes slightly, her cheeks warming. “I guess I’ve just grown accustomed to your stupid face,” she says, but it doesn’t have any edge to it.</p><p>Doug’s blue eyes flash, his mouth tugging up at the corner. He hasn’t shaved in a couple days and this close, she can see the subtle texture of his stubble.  He opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by a booming voice.</p><p>“Doug Dorsey, you son of a bitch!”</p><p>The din of voices quiets for a moment, dozens of faces turning towards them. Then the place erupts in cheers. Kate takes in the joy on their faces, lets it warm her. Doug is <i>adored</i> here. She’s never really known what that feels like. Applause from a crowd of strangers isn’t really the same thing.  But she’s not bitter about it. She’s not jealous of Doug for the way he’s embraced by a bar full of people. She’s proud to be part of it. Proud of <i>him</i>.</p><p>A stocky man with thinning curly hair pushes through the crowd, a huge grin across his face. He’s wearing a hockey jersey and worn blue jeans and when he reaches them, she knows instantly this is Walter. He has the same eyes as his brother.</p><p>Before she can even react, she finds herself enveloped in a hug, the warmth of Walter’s body seeping through her clothes, the tightness of his embrace squeezing her ribs. She hugs him back instinctively and hears him laugh, feels herself smile. After a moment, he pushes her away, holding her at arms’ length. </p><p>“Kate,” he says matter-of-factly, laughing again. “It’s nice to finally meet the girl who tamed my little brother.”</p><p>“Shut up, Walt,” Doug says behind her. “And let her go, would ya? She might want to actually, ya know, go inside.”</p><p>Walter smiles at her again, then lets her go and grabs his brother, wrapping him in a tight hug. Kate watches them embrace, sees the way Doug’s eyes close and the way his fingers press into Walt’s back, and feels a sudden pang of jealousy. Not for the bar full of people who adore him, but for <i>this</i>, this hug from a brother who loves him.</p><p>Someone shouts out, “Show us your gold medal!” and Doug rolls his eyes at her. But he’s smiling and she can tell by the way his hand closes around hers that he loves the attention, that he wears their admiration like a second skin. Whatever reason he had to be nervous before seems to have vanished.</p><p>They finally make their way to the bar, Walt clearing their way. An older man stands and smiles at Kate, offering her his stool. She thanks him and moves to sit, but before she can, she feels the familiar sensation of Doug’s hands on her hips, of being lifted. She manages to suppress her squawk, but narrows her eyes at him as he sets her down.</p><p>He winks at her, bows to the crowd. Someone whistles. She rolls her eyes.</p><p>Walt’s behind the bar and she can feel the push of the crowd behind them, their eagerness infusing the room with an excitement nearly akin to the buzz of a competition audience. They’re stars here, especially Doug, but she doesn’t mind being along for the ride.</p><p>“What’ll you have, Kate?” Walt asks her.</p><p>“Hey, what about me?” Doug asks plaintively.</p><p>Walt cuts his eyes over to him. “You,” he says, “can get it yourself.”</p><p>“But I’m an Olympic champion!” Doug says, grinning. He plays it up, the crowd encouraging him, people throwing up another cheer. Kate thinks this must have been what it was like for Doug when he was growing up, the biggest fish in the pond, everyone’s hero.</p><p>Walt points at Kate. “Not without her, you’re not.”</p><p>Kate grins, looks up at Doug. He’s laughing, his eyes bright as they meet hers. She wants to kiss him, wants to just pull his face down and feel his lips against hers, feel his arms go around her and his fingers in her hair. She wants to kiss him like she does when they’re alone, when no one is watching and they have the world to themselves.</p><p>She’s pretty sure Doug reads her mind, because his eyes darken just a little and his lips twist in a knowing smirk. She feels herself blush again – no one has ever been able to make her blush like Doug – and he leans down and kisses her cheek. “Later,” he breathes against her skin. </p><p>Then he’s gone in one fluid movement, her eyes following him. She watches him shed his coat, watches him kiss the cheek of a pretty girl behind the bar, sees her beam up at him. The woman’s eyes follow Doug as he reaches for a bottle, as he turns again to grab a couple of shot glasses. She avoids Kate’s eyes, her smile falling away as Doug turns his attention away from her.</p><p>Interesting. There’s history there, Kate thinks. And she’s pretty sure she knows what that history probably is. She knows full well that if Doug were to write down the names of all the women he’s slept with, her name would be at the end of a very long list. Not that she’d ever ask him to do that. There are just some things she does not need – or want – to know. And anyway, it doesn’t matter.</p><p>He sets down a bottle of Jose Cuervo in front of her, waggling his eyebrows. Kate can feel her stomach do a little flip, but gamely holds his gaze. If he wants to travel down this road again, fine. She’s never been one to back down from a challenge. Especially not with him.</p><p>Doug fills the shot glasses, nudges the salt shaker in her direction. Slides a bowl of lime wedges across the bar and grins at her.</p><p>She’s aware of the din of voices around her, the thump of the music, the weight of so many stares. She’s used to people watching her, has learned how to tune it out. She flicks her gaze to Walt, who’s watching them curiously, amusement curving his lips. Then she looks back at Doug, smiles a little. The last time they’d done this, things had gone a bit sideways afterwards. But while it was happening, she remembered feeling free. Like a different, better version of herself. Whether that was the tequila, she isn’t sure. She suspects it had more to do with the man in front of her.</p><p>Kate wriggles out of her coat, looks around for a place to put it. Walt grins, reaches out for it. She hands it to him across the bar then pushes her sleeves up, resettling on the stool.</p><p>Doug smirks as she slowly licks her wrist. She catches his eyes as she holds her wrist out to him. He shakes salt onto it, watches as she licks it off. No grimace this time as she picks up the shot glass, empties it smoothly down her throat. Doug has a lime wedge between his fingers, holds it out to her. She plucks it from his grasp, sinks her teeth into the flesh, the bite of the juice sharp against her tongue. She pulls the rind away, dropping it onto the bar.</p><p>Someone in the crowd whoops and Doug laughs. He’s grinning now, teeth on full display as he follows her shot with one of his own. His joy is palpable, a living thing. It emanates from him like a magnetic field and Kate can’t help but be drawn in. She feels like one of those particles she read about somewhere, the kind that always spin in unison with their partners no matter how far apart they are. That’s her and Doug, she thinks as she watches him refill the glasses. Two particles forever spinning in unison. </p><p>***</p><p>Kate can’t remember the last time she’s laughed so much. For once in her life she doesn’t mind talking about skating, answering the same questions over and over: what it’s like to skate, how long she’s been doing it, how she met Doug. To her, competitive skating has always just been a part of her life. An unglamorous thing, full of hard work and frustration, injury and pain and disappointment. She’s been successful, sure, has the medals to show for it, but she’s never really <i>enjoyed</i> it. Until now.</p><p>The girl behind the bar – her name is Gina, Kate discovers – asks her, “What does it feel like when he lifts you up like that?”</p><p>Kate looks at her, meets her eyes. She’s sure Gina’s more interested in what it feels like to rely on Doug’s strength to hold her up, the surety of his hands on her body, more than what the actual lift feels like. It feels like freedom, she wants to say. It feels like perfection. It feels like the one place in the universe where she belongs.</p><p>But she keeps it simple.</p><p>“It feels like flying,” she tells her. Gina smiles a little, fiddles with the bar towel between her hands.  She looks away for a moment, then back at Kate.</p><p>“He seems really happy,” she says. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen him like that.”</p><p>Kate doesn’t know what to say to that, feels her throat tighten a little. <i>He taught me what happiness is</i>, she thinks. But she doesn’t say it.</p><p>***</p><p>She finds him out back, leaning against a wooden beam, huddled inside his coat. She watches him for a second, the way his hands are balled up inside his pockets, the white puff of his breath. She’s spent more time with him than anyone else in the last two years and still she seeks him out. Two particles spinning.</p><p>“Walt said I’d find you out here,” she says.</p><p>Doug looks over at her and smiles. He shrugs. “I just needed some air.”</p><p>“All that constant adoration must be <i>so</i> stifling,” she quips, smiling back.</p><p>He laughs. “We all have our crosses to bear,” he says.</p><p>Kate smirks. “I’m looking at mine,” she says, walking towards him.</p><p>Doug rolls his eyes, opening his arms in an invitation. Kate steps into his embrace easily, sliding her hands under his coat, burying her nose in his chest. She loves the way he smells, the distinct <i>Doug</i>ness of him. She closes her eyes.</p><p>He kisses the top of her head and squeezes her tight. They stand like that in silence for a few moments, Doug’s heartbeat thumping steadily beneath her cheek. He’s held her a million times, in a million different ways, but this way is her favorite.</p><p>“They love you, too, you know,” he says into the quiet, and she can <i>feel</i> the words against her cheek. “Because I do.”</p><p>She tips her head back to look at him. His face is part in light, part in shadow, a study in planes and angles. It reminds her of their first night together, alone in that big house in Albertville, their bodies still buzzing from adrenaline and endorphins. Her Christmas gift had been discarded on the floor (“It looks better on you than it ever did on Bobby Hull,” Doug had breathed against her neck, snaking his hands underneath). She remembers the moonlight against his face, remembers tracing her fingers over his profile and the way his teeth snatched playfully at her fingertips. Remembers the way he rolled onto his side and pulled her body to his, his rough hands against her skin making her shiver.</p><p>Kate breathes out, savoring the memory. A small smile curves her lips.  “Even Gina?” she asks.</p><p>Doug meets her eyes, smirks. “She’ll come around. She’s just…” He thinks for a moment. “Protective.”</p><p>Kate pulls a face. “Possessive is the word I’d use.”</p><p>Doug’s hands tighten on her back and he frowns. He suddenly looks really uncomfortable. “She and I. We, uh—”</p><p>Kate decides to let him off the hook. “Don’t tell me. She fell madly in love with you the second she saw you and she’s been pining away for you ever since. Just one in a long chain of broken hearts you’ve left in your wake, eh Casanova?”</p><p>“‘Doug’ is fine, thanks,” he says, smiling. He bends down to give her a quick kiss, his lips cold against hers.</p><p>She shakes her head with a smirk then pulls away, turning to look around. It isn’t a well-lit area, but she can make out various things in the shadows: piles of construction debris, an old camper, a school bus. A thousand questions crowd behind her teeth: about him, about his life here, about who he was before they met. He’s told her a little here and there, opening up a little more in the quiet spaces between the chaos of their post-Olympics life – how his parents died when he was 12, how his brother basically raised him – but she wants to know more. She wants to know <i>everything</i>.</p><p>They have time, she thinks. She can no longer picture her future without seeing him standing there beside her.</p><p>“So this is where Anton plucked you from a life of quiet desperation,” she says playfully, throwing him a smile over her shoulder.</p><p>He steps up next to her, points to a spot in the dark. “I was standing right there when my life changed forever,” he says softly.</p><p>She gives him a curious look.</p><p>Doug turns to face her, puffing out his chest. “I have spent many hours watching you skate, Mr. Douglas Dorsey,” he says in a bad simulation of Anton’s accent. Then he reaches into an invisible bag and pulls out what Kate can only guess are invisible figure skates. “Here,” Doug mimics. “You try.” He grins.</p><p>Kate laughs. “And the rest is history,” she says, matching his grin.</p><p>“We’re just getting started, sweetheart,” he says, giving her a wink.</p><p>The thing is, that was the moment her life changed forever, too. She just didn’t know it then.</p><p>***</p><p>The bar closes at 2AM and it’s just the three of them left. Walt sent Gina home and Doug is helping Walt clean up, both of them going through the motions as if they were embedded in muscle memory. Kate offered to help, but both brothers insisted they could handle it. She feels a little awkward just sitting around watching them work, but it does give her a chance to take a closer look around. </p><p>The neon signs have all been switched off, the overhead lights turned to full brightness. The place looks different empty. The scuffed floors and worn vinyl are more noticeable now, the old wood of the bar smooth from age and use. Kate thinks back to what she probably would have thought of the place had she walked into it two years ago: too dingy, too cluttered, too lowbrow. But she’s different now. She’s learning how to see beyond the surface to what’s underneath, to what’s important. What she sees now as she studies the place is all the hard work, the devotion, the loving care that has gone into it. She imagines Doug in here as a kid, drinking Coke at the bar while his brother worked to pay the bills, buy Doug’s endless string of hockey equipment.</p><p>The photos catch her eye and she’s surprised she hasn’t noticed them until now. Rows of them along the back wall – a visual timeline of Doug’s life. Hockey dominates, of course: little Doug drowning in shoulder pads, teenage Doug hoisting a trophy, the ’88 Olympics. But there are others, too: Doug in a prom tux, a graduation gown. Doug smelling the ice, a replica of the one in his room back home.</p><p>He had an entire life before he met her. Of course he did. But it’s strange to think of it like that. She knows he didn’t suddenly pop into existence when he stepped into her rink. But it feels like that sometimes, like he didn’t exist until that moment, like he was made just for her.</p><p>Or maybe she’s just projecting. She often feels as if her own life didn’t really start until he crashed headfirst into her ordered existence.</p><p>“That one’s my favorite,” Doug says behind her and she looks to where he’s pointing at a small snapshot stuck to the back of the cash register. It takes her a second to make it out, but then it resolves itself in her mind: she and Doug on the podium at nationals, silver medals around their necks and smiles on their faces, bouquets of flowers held over their heads.</p><p>She feels her eyes sting as sudden tears spill down her cheeks. She doesn’t know what to say, probably couldn’t speak if she tried. It’s just a photograph, one of a million taken of her in her life. Her father has a room full of photos of her. But not one of them has ever made her feel like this. She feels…cherished.</p><p>Doug wraps his arm around her middle, pulls her against him, brushes a kiss across her damp cheek. He doesn’t say anything and it’s one of the things she appreciates about him – the way he doesn’t feel the need to fill a silence, his ability to just let things be.</p><p>“There’s one missing.” Walt’s voice cuts through the moment and Doug chuckles against her ear before letting her go.  </p><p>Kate knows what Walter’s talking about. The timeline is incomplete.</p><p>“Be right back,” Doug says, grinning at them both. He runs outside and is back in a flash, holding a cushioned black box carefully in his hands. He gives Kate a mischievous look.</p><p>She knows what’s in it, almost laughing out loud at the realization. Their gold medals.</p><p>She imagines Doug sneaking into her father’s office in the middle of the night, quiet as a ninja, and removing the medals from their glass case. Imagines him secreting them away in his bag without her knowing, waiting for this very moment. She grins at him.</p><p>Walt’s eyes widen when Doug opens the box, and Kate watches the smile slowly spread across his face. It’s a common reaction when people see an Olympic medal up close, but the look of pride on Walter’s face when he looks up at them means so much more.</p><p>He touches them reverently: the gold edges, the crystal center with the mountains and the Olympic rings, the white satin ribbon with the thin colored stripes. Kate’s familiar with the feel of every last detail of those medals, has them etched in her memory.</p><p>“Hold on,” Doug says, setting the box down on the nearest high-top table. He carefully removes one of the medals, then slips it over Kate’s head, brushing his lips across her forehead. She reaches for it automatically, hefting the weight of it in her palm.</p><p>He takes out the second one, puts it on. Beams at his brother as he cradles it in his hand. “Nice, huh?”</p><p>Walt looks at them both, his eyes moving from Doug to Kate and back again. “You did good, little brother,” he says, smiling. Then he leans in and kisses Kate’s cheek. “Thank you for making him happy,” he whispers in her ear. Kate smiles at him.</p><p>He stands back up. “Don’t move,” he says, hustling out the back door.</p><p>Doug looks at her. “What did he say to you?”</p><p>Kate looks up at him, reaching for his hand. “If you’re good, maybe I’ll tell you.”</p><p>Laughing, Doug leans in. “Baby,” he says softly, “I’m always good.”</p><p>She rolls her eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” she says fondly, shoving him with her other hand. But he just holds on tighter and pulls her close to him, chuckling into her hair.</p><p>Walter returns, camera in hand. “This one’s going behind the bar,” he says. “Front and center.”</p><p>The camera clicks. Another memory, another moment in time.</p><p>***</p><p>It’s nearly 4AM when Walter finally calls it a night, leaving them on their own in the bar after another round of hugs. Kate watches him disappear through the back door, sees the light turn off through the back window.</p><p>She’s tired, the weight of the long day dragging at her. She thinks about the soft bed in their hotel room, wants to burrow under the covers next to Doug and sleep until she wakes up – no alarms, no practice, no Anton muttering in Russian.</p><p>Music starts playing, something low and slow, a man’s voice singing. It sounds vaguely familiar, but she can’t quite put her finger on where she’s heard it.</p><p>She looks over towards the jukebox, sees Doug smiling at her. He holds out his hand. “Dance with me.”</p><p>It’s 4AM and she’s dead on her feet, but she smiles anyway and reaches for him. Because how could she not? </p><p>When he spins, so does she.</p><p>The End</p>
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